In love

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I was determined to get him to open up to me and take me to work, so I woke up very early in the morning and made him a full breakfast. For us, that meant halva, which was a sweet sugar mixture, toast with homemade bread I made myself, cheese I prepared the night before, and some fresh-cut fruit. I set the bread on the table just as he emerged from his room at around seven in the morning, my smile nervous but happy.

"I made breakfast!" I exclaimed excitedly. He didn't look up from his phone and kept walking.

"I get breakfast at the office. I have a busy day." He said curtly, continuing to the elevator. He was in a suit and looked fully polished in a way I wasn't used to seeing in the type of men my dad had tried to set me up with previously.

I ran to the elevator and stopped him, his eyes finally darting to me, confused.

"What?"

"I made breakfast. You will eat with me." I demanded in a tone I had never used before. He was exceptionally stubborn, though, so he deserved it. He hummed and slipped his phone in his coat pocket, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"And if I don't."

"You don't need a wife." I snapped, folding my own arms defiantly. He was silent for a long moment, and I feared he would hit me, but instead, he gently smiled.

"Okay then. Let's eat." He said, giving in.

I wasn't sure if he would like the food I prepared, but with every bite, he seemed to sink more into the generations-old flavors and recipes. He groaned in happiness, eating the warm bread and cheese combined, savoring every bite with delight.

"If you cook like this, I may just eat breakfast here every day." He admitted pleased.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," I said, nervous again, hoping my food had softened him up for my request.

"Go on then." He urged between bites.

"You haven't explained why you married me. You don't really seem interested in being married. You aren't a creep that just wanted a warm body." I said gently, watching his body language, making sure I didn't go too far.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you wanted an arranged marriage when it's not really common in American culture. What do you get out of it?" I asked curiously.

His eyes darkened, and the light smile he had earlier vanished slowly. I felt like, for a brief second, I saw a cold anger light up his face, but just as quickly as the emotion came, it was swept under a mask of indifference.

"Next question." He said without emotion, going back to his food.

"You didn't answer, though." I insisted, dying of curiosity.

"Next question." He said with an icy tone. It took me a second to recover from his rapid shift, and I swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Okay, I want to go to work with you. You can't be bothered to talk to me after your work, so I think I deserve to go in with you. I can make copies of things and clean. I can do a lot of useful things. Here, I'm just wasting away." I explained a bit desperately. He hummed and nodded to himself, eating slowly.

"I think that's a fair ask, and I actually have something I could use your help with." He said, seeming happy with the idea.

"Really? What is it?" I asked excitedly.

"I don't have time to explain. We need to go." He said, shaking his wrist to check his watch, and he quickly grabbed his blazer and phone so we could go.

I was already ready, hoping he would take me with him, and had made sure all the dishes were done aside from the ones we used for breakfast. Marie would have to do those and put everything away, but he seemed very rushed, so I couldn't push it.

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